Snow and the Life that Would Be
by adyinglight
Summary: Snow is dying, a refugee hidden underground on New Earth with a small group of survivors trying to escape the corruption and the motorway kidnappers on the surface. But when a man in a blue box arrives, looking for someone in the wrong place, her life might just take a turn for the better. SPOILERS FOR SERIES 7. Kind of set in the same universe as my other fic 136 days. Review!
1. Life As We Know It

Dying is easy. It is the path to it that is the hard part. Harder still, to sit and wait for death to find you, hidden and waiting as Snow is.

She is not on Earth, but on the New one, unfamiliar and familiar all the same. Dreams haunt her nights, and sometimes her days, as she exists underground. She is not alone- very far from it. Her family had survived, and she trusts most of the people that share a life with her. She sometimes forgets what life was like before the shadow of sickness came to her, but remembers every minute of happiness she ever had, for that is what keeps her alive, what keeps death from finding her.

She knows there is something coming, something that will save her and everyone else smart enough to survive. She has faith.

This is her story; the impossible tale of tragedy and triumph that has become her. It is one of salvation, and it all begins with that crucial belief that she will be saved.

And she doesn't have long to wait.

"Alright, wake up Snow-flake. The doctor's here," her mother whispered, gently shaking Snow awake. Maria was always awake before everyone else in the community, cooking a small but friendly breakfast and greeting everyone with a smile. She made sure everyone was up and alert by eight o'clock, which was really a safety precaution, but let Snow sleep as long as possible because the doctor demanded it. If she feared for her daughter's life, she only showed it in private, keeping a strong mask on for all to see.

Snow blinked, her eyes adjusting to the suddenly bright light. She sighed and nodded, moving to sit up and trying to ignore the sharp throbbing in her chest. "I'll meet you in there," she murmured, and stood up slowly to move to the empty side of the room where her clothes were kept. It was a communal room; everyone slept on thin pads spread across the splintered wooden floor, but everyone had a locker on the far wall that was their own. Clothing was limited, since most people had used the majority of their possessions to trade with secret suppliers in the outside world, so most people had only a couple sets of clothes.

As she dressed, she tried to get in an optimistic mood for the appointment. She saw the doctor almost every day now, and nothing good ever came of it. There was little he could do for her pain or anything else that was wrong with her. The medications were running out, and there was only so much the little blue pills could do for her. They helped her sleep at night, allowed her to walk around on good days, and give her a little bit of energy for surface missions, but there weren't many left. Medicine was getting harder and harder to trade for, harder still to actually find any drugs not in patch form. And he just didn't have the resources to perform any complicated surgeries in her condition.

When Snow had arrived on New Earth, she was dying. Cancer had taken over her body, and there were rumors of a drug on the new planet that could cure her. When her family came up with the money, they flew across space, more hopeful than anyone that the new world would be a better one.

It turned out that order in New Earth had collapsed, the planet's basic functions ceasing to exist. There were rules about being sick, being different, that turned Snow into an exile, her family forced to hide her away. A community existed underground called the Hidden; they were experts in scavenging, surveillance, and had enough drugs to keep sick people alive.

Snow's family found the Hidden within their first few days on the planet. Patrols came through at 8:15 every night, enforcing their laws and arresting the people who didn't know any better. While they were looking for a hiding place, Tim, Snow's younger brother, tripped over a handle that belonged to one of the many entrances to the underground hideout. Luckily, they were welcomed quickly to the group and Snow was able to continue getting treated. Life with the Hidden was hard, but it worked.

They lived underneath Pharmacytown, a dangerous place to be when people surfaced. Some were stolen for the motorway, and some fell into the trap of the patches, the addictive drugs that people bought with money they didn't have. There were rumors of fatal drugs somewhere, laced into the patches, and as a result the use of mood drugs was forbidden within the Hidden community unless used as a medical sedative.

The most interesting thing about living with the Hidden was the people themselves. Carter, a hardened old man, was the unelected leader, for he had been there longer than anyone else. He was the best at coordinating missions, was a ruthless trader, and knew the streets above ground better than the residents themselves. His daughter, Stella, was just as fierce, and knew what it meant to hide because she was born underground. Her mother had been lost years ago, something that was never discussed between the two, but haunted them greatly.

Aside from Snow's older sister, Fria, Kirsten was the only girl close in age to Snow. She had been there since she was a little girl, after her parents departed for the motorway and never came back. She never understood why, but saw it as something out of her control, a mystery she would never solve.

And it was Kirsten the Snow ran into on her way to the doctor's office. She carried a steaming Styrofoam cup in her hand, containing the almost-coffee solution that most people avoided in the mornings unless they really needed the caffeine. "Hey," she said happily, "We're getting a looting group together for tonight. You in?" She fell into step with Snow as she sipped at the drink, making a face as it burned her tongue.

Snow shrugged. "Maybe. I'm headed to the doctor's, so we'll see. But put my name down, I haven't been out since… well, a while," she mumbled. A few weeks ago she had had a really bad bout of illness, confined to the makeshift hospital room, a place that she really had no desire to die in. She had eventually recovered, but it was then that everyone realized how serious her disease really was. They had only been living with the Hidden for a year, and it the first really bad week she had had in their presence.

"Alright. I'll catch you later," Kirsten said, smiling encouragingly as they reached the hospital door. She gave a little wave and dashed away, probably off to report back to Carter.

"Yeah, see you," Snow called after her, her voice cracking a little on the last word. She was nervous, but then again, she was nervous before every appointment.

When she entered the room, her mother was talking with the doctor in an urgent, hushed tone, but straightened up immediately as Snow faced her. "Good morning Snow," Doctor Baza said warmly. "Have a seat." Baza had been with the Hidden almost as long as Carter had, and wore the years on his face. He had helped so many people, but had seen more people die than any man ever should.

"Alright, Snow. You know the drill." And she did. It was always the same; his examinations were monotonous and too numerous to list, and every time his face registered the same blank expression. She could never tell if the blankness was good or bad, but it was usually the latter. "Your tests from last week will be ready in a few minutes, actually. Ok, any pain here?" He spoke softly as he worked, gently pressing against her spine.

Snow winced in response. She knew her back was covered with splotchy bruises, she didn't need to look anymore to know that. She flipped on to her back gingerly. He gently felt her abdomen, and she held in a cry when he pressed something just beneath her ribcage. "Alright," he murmured, moving away to his computer, the only advanced technology in the whole underground. Snow sat up and watched him type, not able to make out the words. He flipped through files, reading for a few minutes.

He froze abruptly, his finger hovering in mid-air over the mouse. And Snow knew something had changed, probably for the worse.

After endless minutes, Doctor Baza slowly turned around, taking a seat across from the examination table. Snow was frozen, numbly awaiting her fate while her mother fidgeted in the chair next to her, biting at her nails, her nervous habit.

"It doesn't look good, Snow," he started, leaning forward to take her hand gently.

"Just tell me," she breathed, sitting up straight and trying to control her shaking hands.

"It's spread. And in about a month your organs will begin to fail. The tumors in your abdomen are pressing against them, weakening their tissues, and they won't be able to function anymore." He paused, carefully watching Snow's face. "I'm very sorry, but there's nothing here I can do for you. Perhaps, if we had more time, I would be able to find something, but all I can offer you is something for the pain."

It is one thing to be dying, but quite another to hear confirmation of it.

"You'll see no changes for a week or two, but you'll know when it's coming. My advice to you is this: do everything you can for the next two weeks, then come to me before it gets too ugly. Let those people out there remember you as you are now: strong."

All Snow could do was nod. She had known this was coming, that one day she would be able to count the days she had left on New Earth. There was so much she wanted to say to Baza, but all that came out was, "Thank you."

She glanced over at her mother, but couldn't look for long, since she was crying. She had never seen her mother cry before, as Maria preferred to do it in private, but Snow didn't think she could keep it together if she watched for too long.

Baza shook his head, letting out a long sigh. "I'll be giving all your medication through an IV from now on, so I need you to come here every day before breakfast," he said, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out an IV bag with a clear liquid in it. "I've had a batch of these mixed for months," he admitted, getting it set up.

Numbly, she leaned back and closed her eyes, barely feeling the fluid flow into her system. It hadn't sunken in yet, although she had had years to deal with this day. It just seemed wrong, because she felt so very alive. She tried to feel differently than she had the day before, but she couldn't. She felt just as healthy, and just as sick as she always had been. She felt her mother take her hand, and knew that it would be days before they could talk about it. It wasn't like Maria to talk about negative things, the optimist that she was wouldn't let her.

Even so, Snow felt at peace, though it was possibly the medication which made her quite sleepy. Her mind drifted in and out of consciousness as she rested, and images floated in and out of sight. There were strange things, unfamiliar places and objects that danced on the edges of memory, but something stood out among them all.

It was something blue, something much bigger and sadder than it seemed, something that had been a part of her dreams for as long as she could remember. She had seen it once before, back on Earth as a child, when she thought the world was ending it had appeared in the sky just before things got better. She didn't know what it meant, but it made her feel sane as the universe turned around her unforgivingly, her fate drawing closer with every tick of the clock.

Something was coming.

**Alright, so I know that chapter is a little rough to get through, but trust me, the adventure really begins and takes off from here. This is only my second fic, so leave me a comment and let me know how I'm doing, and check out my first fic, 136 Days, if you feel like reading a little more angsty adventure. I don't want to be 'that angsty writer' but… I really like my strong female protagonists : ).**

**xJessica**


	2. Farthest From Home

Days passed slowly for the Hidden. There wasn't much to do once they got passed their first few days adjusting to the underground. Looting and trading trips were scheduled erratically to avoid detection, and only happened every few weeks when surface contacts confirmed their safety. People just lived. They waited, not sure of what exactly, but they held on to the hope that things would get better by the tips of their fingers. No one had fallen off the cliff yet, but it was only a matter of time before morale ran out.

Snow could feel that today was something different. The closer she inched to the end, the more she could sense about the world around her. The strange dreams of the blue box and the man with the sad face grew clearer as nights passed, pulling her towards the surface. It did not frighten her, for not much did, but there were some days when her eyes strained through the dark streets of the city, willing them to see a flash of deep blue in the shadows.

She had spoken to her uncle, Turner, about the blue box. When he was in good condition to see her, he spoke of the destruction it left in its wake, the horrors it brought with it. Most of the time it seemed like nonsense, but it was the closest thing Snow had to an understanding of it.

Turner understood things well, but he was not in the right mind most of the time. Everyone knew he was addicted to the patches, that they were the only things keeping him from depression, and the community quietly allowed it, knowing it was only a matter of time before the patches killed him. Bliss was the name inscribed on the label, a pleasant green script detailing exactly the mood he received from it. Some days he took so much that he couldn't leave his room, just lied on his bed all day. But on good days he was an asset to the Hidden, and never missed a strategy meeting or a mission so long as he had time to run through Pharmacytown for more patches.

Carter knew there was nothing he could do to stop Turner's addiction. He sympathized with him, even understood what he felt. Turner's wife had not survived the arrival on New Earth; she was killed mere hours before the family found the Hidden by the patrollers. He was not the same man who Snow grew up with, and as unsettling as it was, she depended on his stories and visions to keep her going.

Even without a real government on New Earth, there were still those that believed they were responsible for keeping the planet "safe." Snow had overheard the patrollers talk plenty of times, about how they believed wholeheartedly that the superior beings were destined to survive the end, and that the hell they suffered through was just to select the best candidates for the new world that was coming. And they were just helping nature take its course.

Which was the problem when the Hidden ventured onto the surface, as they planned to do that night. There were a few trusted traders and shop-owners that they could count on, as well as being branded in the 'superior race,' but trust only gets you so far. There was no denying the danger in it, but that was the very thing that kept most of them sane. Cabin fever was a very real thing, and even the older members ventured out every so often, taking the not-so-fresh air into their lungs and feeling real moonlight on their skins. Sigh no more, children of Hiding, for the world above your heads was once pure.

It was the purity amongst the horror of New Earth that people like Snow and Turner fought to see. They looked for something more, be it a vice or a vision.

All things spiritual aside, the night's group suited up military style. They were not short of weapons, in fact they had more weapons than they had clothes or food, but defense was the first priority of their trips. No one yet had died during the missions because living another day was more important than scrounging up a loaf of stale bread. As Snow had frequently witnessed, no matter how brave her friends were, they would extract if there was a chance that lives would be lost on their side. They would go hungry another night rather than spend it hungrier still, and mourning a fallen friend.

And it was in that mindset that Snow set out onto the cold surface of New Earth. She grouped with Kirsten, who knew something was wrong with her, and Roman, a burly thirty-something who used to be a policeman on Earth. They ascended through one of the many unused sewage gates that put them about a mile out from the base, across the street from a small indoor garden; it was a really beautiful piece of technology that allowed the owner to produce sufficient artificial sunlight to grow plants. Ruth owned the shop, and although it was a patroller hotspot, had perfected the transfer of just enough food that no one would notice its absence.

Roman led the way carefully onto the sidewalk, gun loaded and pointed outward as he swung once, twice, three times up and down the street before allowing the girls to climb up. Snow silently stared at the sky, where she could almost see the stars behind the thick clouds. As horrid as the city was, she prayed that it would not be her last time seeing it.

She snapped out of her daze with a sharp tug on her sleeve, courtesy of Kirsten. "Come on," she whispered gently, "We have a lot of ground to cover." With a nod, the three sprinted across the street, hovering in the doorway just long enough to tap it twice before they flew inside.

The interior was dark, as it always was when they visited. Snow had come here many times, and each time the transaction went about in much the same way. She would lock eyes with Ruth, and the woman would vanish to the closet, to return with several bags of whatever she could manage; potatoes, beets, onions, and maybe even a few almost-ripe tomatoes if they were lucky. A quiet 'thank-you' would come out, but nothing more. It was too risky to stay longer than a minute or two, as anyone spotted in a shop after curfew would be shot on sight, superior or not.

Snow knew something about this time was different, or rather, she sensed it. The air did not taste the same; the dirt and life in the room was still there, but mixed with it was something tinged darker. She wasn't sure if the others had noticed, but a quick tap on their shoulders allowed her to take the lead as she quietly drew her sidearm. She moved through the front room and into the retail area where they usually met Ruth.

That room was dark, too, and that tipped the others off that something was not right. Snow quickly found the light switch and, not sure of what she expected to see, flicked it up.

The room was empty, but in a terrible state. The register counter was knocked over, papers and packets strewn and scattered around the small room. There were scorch marks on the cream walls, and there was not a single chair in the room that wasn't broken to bits. Snow made careful eye contact with Roman and Kirsten, signaling them to follow her into the garden.

The lights were on there, the artificial sunlight warming the air. It would have felt comforting on any other day, but now it just made Snow worried. She scanned the room, eyeing the meager roots and stalks buried in the dry soil. She was about to walk further into the room when she saw it.

Ruth. She was lying face-down in the back corner, nestled among the herbs. For a moment, she couldn't move out of dread, but then she raced across the room, abandoning stealth in desperation. "Ruth?" she hissed, reaching for the old woman's body, "No, no, Ruth… please…" And she willed herself not to see it but she did- a single bullet hole in her forehead, the blood still wet on her face. Her wrinkled eyes were open, unseeing in shock. And next to the wound was the stamp of the patrollers, the stamp that appeared on all their kills- the broken circle, the sign reserved for anyone killed because they were rebels, betraying their superior status. "Don't be dead…," she whispered, tears stinging as she held the woman she barely knew, but owed so much to, killed for helping them. She could hear Roman murmuring behind her, but nothing he said could help her now. She let out an angry yell, smashing her fist into the dirt. Slowly, she took a deep breath, knowing there was a present she needed to focus on. "She's only been here for a few hours. The patrollers can't be far. We need to move, warn the others." She stood, shoving down the burning in her chest and shaking herself.

Roman, who looked unusually pale, nodded hardly, moving his eyes away from Ruth for the last time. Kirsten was crying, but looked defiant, still clutching her gun so tightly that her knuckles were white. They walked cautiously through the garden, knowing they would never be able to return to this warm and real room ever again. There was an unspoken understanding that passed through the group as they moved back into the dark room: they were on red alert again. They could mourn later.

They reached the door quickly, Snow's heart rate climbing dangerously high. Roman pulled it open sharply, doing a quick sweep of the street. Light fell across his face as he did, showing his steeled fury as it went by. "Ok," he breathed. "It looks like we're clear to head to the next cover. We can rendezvous with the other two groups in about two blocks once I send the distress signal out on the comms. But we need to move fast." Snow could hear it in his voice- the worry, the uncertainty. She heard a button click as the signal went out and they burst out the door, sprinting for cover in the eave of the next building over.

And that was when she heard the distinct _ping!_ of a bullet flying past her ear.

Things moved quite quickly then. As soon as they realized they were under fire, they knew they couldn't stop for cover. The shots were coming from behind them, and the only thing they could do was run and hope there was enough movement that they shooters would miss until they could turn a corner. The other groups would certainly hear the commotion; it was just a matter of evasion. Roman twisted and fired, hitting one square in the chest and missing the other by inches. Snow turned after he returned, managing to hit a patroller's leg. There were three more on their feet, firing as they ran, but they were slowing down, the chase losing its flavor as they lost the numbers advantage.

They reached the corner unharmed, darting into an alleyway that would lead them to the rendezvous if they could make it through. The patrollers followed, losing one more from Kirsten's expert shot and another as Roman landed one in his shoulder. The last one could sense we were headed for reinforcements, that much Snow could read in his face as she twisted to take him out. They fired in the same second, Snow's bullet reaching her target… and his bullet reaching his. Roman stumbled, letting out a small cry as red blossomed through his white shirt. It had passed through him, nicking his side, and though it had stunned him, Snow was sure he would be alright. "It's okay," she said, trying to steady him, "We're almost back."

He was gasping, clutching the wound and fighting to stay upright, but pressed forwards, allowing the girls to support him as they made their way down the rest of the alley. They scanned the area for more patrollers, and while none seemed to be on their way, Snow knew it was inevitable that they would run into more if they didn't get out of there as soon as they could.

They met the rest of the group with whispers, assuring them that they were fine for now, but they needed to get back below. Ric, Roman's brother, took him down the hatch without a word, ignoring the protocol of entrance. But before a guard could be set up to let the rest of the crew go down, something in the air shifted.

It was a noise that no one had ever heard before, a groaning and creaking of something materializing down the street. Snow didn't know what it meant exactly, but she had a suspicion that it had to do with the blue box, as she watched it appear out of thin air fifteen meters away.

And now that she saw the box, she didn't quite know what she was meant to do. So, for now, she did what she and the group did best.

She hid in the shadows, awaiting the mystery that had haunted her dreams for so long.


	3. Force of the Universe

They hid, but were too curious to retreat underground. New arrivals to the planet were unheard of, and the addition of the strange teleport of a blue police box was just plain strange. The thing just sat there once it was finished landing, dust swirling and settling around it. There were windows around the top, and light poured from them, casting an eerie light into the street against the murky darkness. Snow inched as far forward as she could, straining to take in the symbol she had seen far too often in her mind.

And then a strange man walked out of the box, as casually as one might leave their home for an evening walk. He looked around curiously and quickly, his eyes taking everything in. But something was wrong. He ran down the street towards the group, scanning something with a green light. "No, no, no… wrong planet entirely, dear. Not the right time at all… this is not good. Go, go, go…," he muttered to himself, pacing around just feet away from Snow, hitting his head a few times with the strange scanner.

Something caught his attention in his mind and he stopped moving. "Yes, I should go. Nothing here for me now…," he continued to mutter, eyes flicking up and down the street.

Suddenly, Carter jumped out of the darkness and in front of the man. He held his gun inches from the man's face, his teeth gritted as he spoke. "You'll need to come with us. Now." The force in his voice was almost frightening.

"Ok, hello! Man with a gun, that's lovely isn't it, but not really my favorite thing to see on a Saturday morning. It is Saturday, isn't it? No, no, wait." The man looked down, glancing at his watch. "Thursday, my apologies. Now, why am I coming with you?" He held out his arms assuringly as the rest of us slowly advanced out of hiding. "Oh, wow, there are a lot of you. What's going on here?"

"We're going to have to take you underground. Anyone with that kind of technology is a threat to us. Who are you working for? The patrollers? Or is the government on its way back?" Carter maintained his position, signaling for Turner and Lynch to grab the man.

He struggled a bit as they took his arms, which only irritated Carter more as he watched. "No need for violence, I assure you. I'm the Doctor and I don't work for anyone. I'm just passing through."

"The Doctor? What's that, your code name?"

"If you like."

"I don't."

"Then it's my name. That's all there is to it." He smiled cockily, standing upright in spite of his restraints.

Tuner was shaking as he stared at the Doctor, and Snow could tell he needed a fix. Sure enough, he fumbled through his pockets with his free hand until he found another Bliss patch. He quietly pasted it onto his neck, looking downwards to avoid the group's looks. "No, no, no!" The Doctor yelled abruptly, snatching his left arm free and ripping off the patch. He threw it forcefully to the ground before he was restrained again, but the damage was done.

Turner faced him again with fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He hissed, leaning close to him.

"That- it's going to kill you. Any of the Bliss patches will, most of the others aren't safe either." He explained this quickly, eyes darting around the group. "Please tell me you haven't been taking these," he pleaded, urgency in his voice bleeding through.

Carter shook his head. "We don't usually allow them underground, but… certain conditions…," he trailed off, meeting Turner's eyes with an unfathomable expression. Turner grunted, another patch already slapped back against his neck. He had the hungry eyes of an addict, with a thirst for happiness that Snow feared could never be sated.

Without another word, Carter turned back to the entrance to the underground. "Move," he commanded, and we followed him into the darkness, the Doctor dragged in behind us. Snow was sure he was going to be considered a prisoner, and as much as she felt it was wrong, there was nothing she could say to get him out of it. The dreams of a young girl did not hold weight among the militarism and politics of the Hidden.

The group took a longer route to the base, avoiding the main room entrance in favor of one that led to storage area, which was assumed by most to be a makeshift holding cell. Snow could feel her heart beating as she followed the Doctor's movements with the corner of her eye, trying to make some sense of the man whom she had never seen before, yet felt so very familiar.

The Doctor was thrown roughly into a dusty metal chair, Turner and Lynch standing on either side. "You lot can go, get back with whatever you managed to grab. I'll be speaking with this… Doctor." Carter took a seat in another chair directly across from the Doctor, eyeing him with a curious expression rather than a threatening one.

Everyone shuffled off, except, of course, for Snow. She had to stay, had to make an appeal as to why she needed to know more about the man. "Carter," she said, as forcefully as she could manage. "I'd like to stay. His blue box… well, I just need to understand." She met his eyes, putting on a calm and convincing mask that she knew would allow her to get her way.

He sighed. Carter had gotten to know Snow well over the past months, becoming another concerned person regarding her well-being and treatment. He would answer her questions before anyone else's because he knew, he knew what it meant to be curious with such a limited time to find result. So he nodded, because he cared enough about the mystery to share it with another.

"Where did you come from, Doctor? And no silly answers. We just want the truth." Carter leaned back, more relaxed now that he had gauged the threat level to be low.

"Well," he started, folding his arms and tilting his head to the ceiling. "I've been searching. On Earth, all over it, in different times and places. But my… ship, well, landed me on the New Earth instead, which I could call an accident but it probably wasn't, on her part at least." He shook his head. "I need to leave as soon as I can, because a past version of me could show up in a matter of days… and that is too complicated for me to deal with right now." He reached up to straighten his bow tie, thinking.

Snow glanced at Carter, and upon seeing her confusion reflected back at her, asked, "What are you searching for?"

That seemed to be the wrong question, because the Doctor frowned, his face scrunching into a hurt expression. It almost seemed to wound him. "It's been so long… I hardly can tell anymore. Everywhere and when I go… I can never find anything. And I know I won't find what I'm looking for here."

Snow leaned forward, searching the man's face for a sign that he could actually answer her, but found none. She sighed, moving on. "So… the blue box?" She raised an eyebrow in anticipation, pulse racing again.

"Ah, yes. It's a space ship. And a time machine. But not a very good one, apparently," he reproached, smiling slightly at some private joke.

Carter let out a breath- he was interested. "So," he tried. "Let me get this straight. You're looking for some ambiguous… thing. And it's on Earth. But your handy time-and-space machine took you to the wrong place, so you're here." He laughed softly. "That's one hell of a cover story, Doctor."

"Yet, you believe me," the man countered, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence that outweighed Carter's.

"What makes you believe that?"

"Because everyone believes me."

"Space travel, that I can begin to believe. But time travel? In a wooden box? Sorry, Doctor but there's no way you're on our side here." Carter stood and began to pace, cracking his knuckles one by one.

"Who said anything about sides? I don't even know who your people are." He was staring at Snow now, examining her face with curiosity.

"Carter," she said, seeing something in the Doctor's face. "He's telling the truth. I know it's impossible. But it has to be true. I've seen the box before, a long time ago, back on Earth."

He sighed. "Fine. Fine. Okay, Doctor, I won't be treating you as a hostile then. But I can't let you go tonight. It's too dangerous at this time of night; one of the patrollers might see you coming up and we can't let them find a single entrance." Shaking his head, he turned to walk away. "I'm turning in for the night. Snow, you're responsible for the mad box man."

He walked away, silence following. Snow couldn't say anything after him, rather, she was at a loss. After all the time she had spent thinking about the blue box, it was quite a reality check to have its inhabitant alone with her.

Before she could speak, he whipped the green scanner out of his coat pocket and waved it over her. He paused, frowning as he glanced down at it, then scanned her again. He let out a long breath, tucking the scanner away.

"You're dying," he said.

"I know."

He was quiet for a long time.

"My name's Snow."

"Snow, that's a lovely name. What is this place, Snow?" He leaned forward again, resting his chin in his hands as he watched her every move.

"We're called the Hidden. We, well, hide. From the surface level, the patrollers, the nonexistent government. They have this idea about a superior group of people to repopulate New Earth with when the government returns. And we don't fit the bill."

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost a year. My whole family came with me from Earth."

"Why?"

Snow paused. "Because I'm sick and they thought there was a better treatment here."

"No, that's not it. Why did you come?" His eyes darted back and forth across her face as if reading a page of a book.

"I suppose… I thought there was something more." She shook her head. "Something better than that stupid hospital bed I lived in." There was so much more she wanted to say, to confess to this stranger. People thought she had no hope, no reason to be so far away from home other than her family's will that she may live. But her will was stronger than that. She had faith, if in nothing else but the universe, that life could be beautiful. "_O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my cries,  
I see my own soul trampling down what it ask'd for_," she recited, closing her eyes as the words flowed. Indeed, she had wanted a new life on a new planet, but had ended up more broken than she had ever been, trapped and hidden all the same.

"Whitman," the Doctor noted, nodding his head. "Brilliant man. Poor taste in fruit though, he hated bananas! Could you imagine… And, he was utterly unimpressed with my TARDIS, the nerve of that man," he muttered, a fond smile on his face as he berated the poet.

"You don't make any sense," Snow groaned, rolling her eyes at the man.

"Keep up, Snow. The TARDIS is my space ship and I'm friends with Walt Whitman. Simple enough, right?" There was a lively gleam in his eyes that shook Snow. She hadn't seen anyone with that much life in them in a very long time.

"Right." She stood, trying to process it. Doubting the Doctor now would be useless; she wanted to believe it was real, therefore it was all true.

After a minute, he spoke softly to her, in a voice more gentle than anyone's. "I may be able to help you, you know. You and your uncle."

Snow cleared her throat. "Turner?" It came out in a very small voice, barely audible.

"I know about the drug he's taking. And it's more than a mood enhancer, it's been corrupted. It could kill him quite easily if he continues to use it." He sat very still in his chair, concentrating on Snow.

"You think I don't know that?"

"I can help him," he repeated calmly. "And I want to help you."

"Doctor," Snow breathed, moving cautiously around the room, measuring each word and step. "How can you even say that?"

He smiled. "Nothing's impossible, Snow. And I have luck and the universe on my side, and I pretty much know everything there is to know about… stuff."

Something sparked inside Snow at the words. "The doctor here says I need a miracle."

He laughed. "You've always believed in miracles, haven't you? Quite right, too. Well, here I am. I'm the miracle. Because out of every place on Earth and this new one, in every dimension and universe and every single hour possible- I arrived here and found you. I'd say those odds were greater than the odds of you surviving another month."

He reached out a hand towards her, and she took it.

"When I get out of here, back to my TARDIS, I'll be able to help you. And in 76 days, this planet will be freed- the motorway opened, justice, fairness, and order returned, the life brought back to your people. And that's a promise I can keep." It was complete sincere, and almost too much for Snow to take as he squeezed her small hand.

"Can't you take me with you? It might be cramped in that box… but I want to see something out there… something extraordinary." The question came from an unexpected place, bubbling up to the surface of her mind with confidence.

Something flashed across his face, a crack in his easygoing and cocky presence. He covered his face with a hand briefly, as if wiping something from it. A small sound escaped from his mouth, a sound that Snow could only recognize as pain. It took him a minute to compose himself, and when he sat up he stared at something far past Snow, something not quite there.

"Doctor," she whispered, leaning closer to him. "What are you searching for?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes and clenching his fists slightly. "It's late. You should get some rest."

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and Snow knew she was being dismissed. Sighing, she stood and turned sharply to the right, calling over her shoulder as she left. "If you want a place to sleep, there are a few cots in the room at the end of this corridor."

But he said nothing more.

**Thanks for reading, whovians. Feel free to leave a review and let me know how the story's going!**


	4. Truthful Lies

For the first night in a long time, Snow did not dream of the blue box, for it was here among her people- whatever it brought with it would be revealed. She did not want to think of it as an omen, but something did not feel right as she woke. The previous night had been long, far too much had happened that never should have.

_Ruth…_ She had considered her something more than a friend. She had been willing to care for and protect people she didn't know, and that meant so much more than acquaintance to Snow. The woman was too young. And she died alone.

Snow pushed herself up, her head throbbing something fierce. She reached blindly towards the bedside table, searching for her pills, then remembered she wouldn't be taking medicine that way anymore. She glanced at the clock, realized it was too early to get up, and moved to lie back down, hoping her headache would subside.

But then someone knocked at her door, smartly and sharply. She knew who it would be before she could open it.

"Good morning, Snow. I've just been chatting with your mother, lovely woman. I thought I'd take you to the doctor before we head out." He leaned in the door frame, calm as could be, a snarky smile on his face.

Squinting at the sudden change in lighting, she squinted as she stared up at the Doctor. "Head out where?" His cheerfulness was almost unnerving to her; smiles among the Hidden were few and far between.

"Well, someone has to take me back to the TARDIS."

"And I have to do it?"

"Well, you and some others. Your uncle, as well. I've talked to him, too." Something shifted in his face briefly, but he covered it quickly, smiling again.

Snow shook her head and pushed past him. "I'm not sure I'll be up for a day trip after this," she said. "The medicine makes me sick."

"It won't today."

"And you know that because…"

"Because I know."

"You are a doctor, aren't you? It's not just some silly title you made for yourself to sound important?"

He laughed. "I'm a 900 year old alien who travels in time and space. Do you really think I need a degree to be qualified in human medicine?"

She shrugged. "Could you fix me?" The question came out before she could stop it, and it wasn't what she wanted it to be. It was stupid, a hopeless thing to ask the man. She didn't necessarily think it was impossible for her to get better, but even so, she didn't want to think there was a chance. Because if the chance was lost, failure would be that much worse.

He stopped walking, collecting himself as he stared at the floor. He spun abruptly towards her and placed his hands gently on her bony shoulders. "You're not broken, Snow." He searched her eyes, seeing everything she saw and feeling everything she felt in one moment. He smiled sadly and turned away, rubbing his fingers against his eyes with frustration.

Now that she had asked, she wasn't giving up that easily. "You know what I mean, Doctor," she whispered, her voice breaking at his name.

"I don't know. Time is funny, it doesn't always bring about an easy answer for that type of thing. Time steals and it hurts, but sometimes there are moments, rare and pure, where anything can happen and that anything is mine to steal. And I don't know if I can steal you. Because if I take you back to Earth, where they most certainly can cure you with my help, I've woven myself into your life. And the people who have chosen to be a part of my life have met nothing but loss and disaster." There was something very dangerous in his words, something buried inside him that was eating away, creating a monster in his head. Snow recognized it and realized that the Doctor was just as broken as she was- his arrogant, cheerful mask was slowly and painfully peeling away.

"Doctor, why are you so sad?" She watched him walk beside her, his shoulders slightly hunched and his toes pointed outwards, giving him a tired and somewhat awkward swagger to his step. he was a disconcerting man, his features not quite matching up- a young face with old eyes, a zest for humanity but tired with the universe.

He didn't answer Snow for a long time, and she was beginning to think he didn't hear her. Before she could say something else, though, they had arrived at Baza's office. He pushed the door open for her, not meeting her eyes as she walked slowly past him.

"There you are, Snow. Good morning. Ah, you must be the Doctor, good to have you. If you're sticking around for a while, I'd appreciate the help. Now, Snow, you can have a seat over here and I'll get you started." Baza spoke quickly and precisely, as he always did.

"I'm afraid I won't be staying longer than a few more hours, doctor. I arrived here by accident as I was on a very important trip," the Doctor said, his demeanor not fully recovered from the intense conversation in the corridor.

"Ah, well," Baza sighed, bringing the IV over and carefully inserting it into Snow's arm. She hissed as the needle pierced her skin, the medicine burning. Adjusting herself into a more comfortable position, she settled in for the long haul, a bin nearby for when she would become sick.

She closed her eyes and let herself think of home, of the time when she could see sunshine and feel something from it. She held onto its image as she broke out in a cold sweat, bending forward to be sick in the bin. She placed herself away from the room, from what she was, from what she would be. Home was within her reach for once, a safe place that she had foolishly left behind out of hope.

Snow didn't notice the Doctor's hand gently rubbing her back until the session was almost over. He had been sitting there the whole time, this stranger who cared so terribly much about everything. She raised her head so it was level with his and their eyes locked. A silent understanding passed between them, that whatever they both suffered could be shared, and somehow they would fix each other.

"There we go," Baza murmured as the last of the medicine dripped into Snow. "Yeah, the stuff's not pleasant. But you should have enough energy now to get through the day. Drink this," he said, handing her a small cup, "The Doctor made it, said it would help with the sick feeling. Brilliant man," he nodded to the Doctor, who smiled tightly as Snow drank.

And then two hours passed very slowly as the pair met with the rest of the Hidden and the Doctor explained what he could. Much of what he said confused the people as they tried to grasp time in their minds. "I've been here before," he was saying, "Once in your past, once in your future. And because of what happens in the future, I can't stay for very long, and I can't rescue you just yet. You're just going to have to trust me when I say that in a few months, you will be freed. The people on the motorway will come back to you. The world will go back to what you wished it would be. I just can't do anything about it, because, well, I've already done something about it." He scratched his head, searching for words that could make them understand.

"Trust you? Right. After an unauthorized landing on a planet you supposedly weren't meant to land on, where you've been traipsing around like you own the place?" Turner growled irritably. He wasn't wearing a Bliss patch, and this was quite obvious to everyone.

"Yes," the Doctor said simply, facing the small crowd with open arms. He knew humans better than they knew themselves, and he knew they would always trust him in situations like these because they needed to, because there was no other option for them. "Now, if you'd kindly escort me out of here, I'll be happy to leave you to wait for your liberation in peace. You'll never see me again. I've grown tired with meddling in human freedom." His cheerful façade slipped again, a shadow passing over his face as he sighed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

Snow would go, even if she still felt sick (which she didn't, really, thanks to the Doctor), because she knew there was something more to this story than just an accidental visit. There was something for her, some happening that was fated, something in him that both scared her and made her determined to help him. Because the darkness inside the Doctor was something she could see, something she recognized, and something she wanted to fix. So when the group formed to take the Doctor to the surface she did not hesitate to stand with them, right beside her uncle. Her mother looked on disapprovingly with her father, but they both knew they couldn't keep Snow from doing anything at this point. They understood what she needed to do with the time she had left.

It was still light out when they ascended into Pharmacytown, a risky move but a necessary one. After the events of the previous night, the curfew patrollers were bound to double their efforts, making a night visit just as dangerous as a day one. They used a different exit, leaving them with two blocks to cover until they could reach the TARDIS.

Adrenaline hit Snow's system as soon as they reached the hatch. She gripped her sidearm tightly, her knuckles turning white as she waited beneath the door. She glanced at the Doctor, the mad man who had refused to take a weapon, catching his eye in the thin strip of light that fell through the wooden covering. He had taken the lead quite naturally of the group of five. Ric and Kirsten had joined Snow and Turner to accompany the Doctor, a team of the Hidden's best scavengers.

The Doctor nodded once and reached up to the door, one hand on his lips in the universal signal for "be quiet." And we moved quietly into the sunlight.

There didn't seem to be anyone around, but Snow knew better than to be relieved. There could be an army around the corner or a sniper on the roof. It was always going to be a dangerous trip.

Snow hadn't seen New Earth in the sunlight since the day she had arrived, and it was a stunning picture. The light did not make things look better or more inviting; rather, it emphasized everything that was wrong with the world. The drug shops were closed, but the peeling paint and vulgar symbolism was prominent. The streets were littered with rubbish and unnamable horrors that, even in the sunlight, were indistinguishable from each other. The emptiness of the street did little for the atmosphere- there was no life in the town. It was just a shell of what it once was.

As the group silently walked, hugging what was left of the building walls, they prayed they would remain undetected.

But of course, they weren't going to be that lucky.

The shot came from nowhere, and Kirsten was down before anyone had a chance to react. The TARDIS was so close, but there wasn't time to run to it. The Doctor yelled something forcefully, and pushed Snow through a flimsy wooden door into the nearest building. She fell into darkness, feeling her group come in behind her loudly.

"No no no, come on, Kirsten…," the Doctor was muttering, waving his scanner over her as he held the young girl. Shakily, Snow crawled towards them, not wanting to see what had happened but knowing all the same.

The man gave up, covering his face with his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered, putting a hand over her face to gently close her eyes.

One shot, that's all it had taken to end the life of Snow's best friend. She couldn't feel, couldn't understand what cruel twist of fate had let this girl die before her. It wasn't fair, it couldn't be right. So Snow cried for the unjustness of it all, abandoning danger for another quiet moment.

"There's only one guy out there, on the roof. If I get out there I'll have a shot at him," Ric said stoically, peering out the window.

The Doctor was wrestling with the idea. He had seen the man too, and knew there was no way they would make it to the TARDIS unless he was killed. The man on the roof had the advantage, and going out there to shoot at him would almost certainly be suicide. But did the Doctor want to die? He had thought about it several times, marveling at what would happen if he just stopped. But the arrogant responsibility he felt he had for the whole multiverse overwhelmed the thought every time, and the possibility that there was still happiness, somewhere out there…

And before the Doctor could stop him, Ric ran out into the street, firing expertly into the air. Shots rang out from both men, sharp and merciless, until the noise stopped entirely.

The Doctor knew that both men were dead before he looked. It was just the sort of thing that happened to him, what always happened when he was around. People got hurt. People died. And they never would have if he had never been there.

"We have to move," the Doctor murmured to Snow, placing a hand on her shaking shoulder. She was still crying for her friends, now realizing that Ric was dead, too. "Now."

She didn't think she could move, but one swift pull from the Doctor snapped her into action. There would be time to grieve later. Turner, who had been silent through the whole thing, moved stiffly after them, his eyes glazed over as another patch took its effect on him.

They finished the short sprint to the TARDIS without drawing any fire. Stopping at the door to grab his key, the Doctor knew what would happen next, what this whole visit must have been about. He sighed. "Snow, Turner. I'm sorry. But we can't go back. It's too dangerous to make a run for the entrance now. And the TARDIS is tricky- I'm too close to my time stream now that she won't let me land here again. I think she led me here because of you, Snow. One last trip to New Earth… to save you. I don't know why. But time doesn't always make sense. It isn't always fair." There was always a reason behind the TARDIS's mistakes. They weren't always obvious, but they were there. To the Doctor, it felt like she wanted the Doctor to ruin another girl's life. But to the TARDIS, she was giving the girl life.

While all Turner felt was Bliss, Snow felt absolutely nothing at all as she watched New Earth vanish around her, the family that she loved so much left behind to wait for a fabled freedom.

And it was in this cruel, numbing way that Snow finally returned home.


	5. Home, Again

Until she turned around, that is. The dark, cramped interior of the spaceship she had been expecting was nonexistent. It was an enormous, glowing room, with corridors extending in all directions, a huge, curious looking console making funny noises on a raised platform in the center of the room. If you could call it a room; it was more like a whole world.

"B-but," she tried, her mouth suddenly dry because for once, something had truly shocked her. She glanced down at her uncle but he was as good as unconscious, a glazed smile plastered across his face as the drug took over his mind. The Doctor was flitting about the console, almost dancing as things popped and flashed.

"I do apologize, Snow, you can't go outside and check to see that the box is still small since we're already in flight. But here it is, the old thing. It's huge, bigger on the inside, another dimension, a whole world, a big mad box…. yes, yes, yes. Welcome to the good side of the universe." He announced it gallantly, swinging his arms around the orange-y lights.

"How do you get so many people to get used to this?" She breathed, her eyes wide as she soaked it in, not wanting to miss anything.

"Oh, you know. Only the best survive." He winked at her.

"You must get tired of everyone being all 'wow' after all this time."

He frowned and turned back to the controls. "It's been a while," he muttered to himself.

"What's that?" Snow followed him up to the console, blinking at the colorful lights on the machine.

"Nothing. Well, yes, taking you home now. And where would that be? No, no, no wait I'm missing something…." he wheeled around, scanning the room. "Yes! Turner! Turner, my good man, wake up now! We're going back to Earth and all that!" He ran to the old man, still slumped against the door, and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. When nothing changed, he let out a frustrated yell and ripped three patches off Turner's neck.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Snow managed to get out, kneeling at his side. Turner did not look well at all. He was shaking, white as a sheet, and sweating through his shirt. His eyes were open but showed no indication that he could see or comprehend anything.

"Ah, well, he's dying," the Doctor murmured, scanning him quickly, more urgently than he had done with Snow.

"What?" Snow almost didn't hear him. There was no need for this, another death to add to the pile of bodies she had seen since the Doctor showed up. It wasn't fair; after all they had gone through to escape with their lives, Turner couldn't die from the drug that defined him. Tears filled her eyes as she stared in horror at the man she almost didn't recognize, weak and convulsive on the floor, unable to see the terrifying, wonderful world around them. "No," she whispered, letting a tear finally fall, "he can't be." There was no protest, no fight in the words, for Snow did not have enough left in her to contest death for another person and win.

"Sh, sh, shut up. We have to get to hospital quickly." He sprinted back to the console and furiously punched in coordinates. "It's Bliss. The drug mutated, killed just about everybody. That's why New Earth is the way it is. It's a miracle he's survived this long with the amount he's been taking." He flicked a switch and cranked a dial and the machine whirred and wheezed, shaking as it landed.

Snow still didn't want to listen. It was too, too much for one day. Her vision blurred as she held her uncle's hand, straining to see the strong man she once knew who had so eagerly accompanied her to New Earth.

"_You think I'm missing out on something like that?" Turner chuckled, ruffling Snow's choppy blonde hair. "Hell no! I'm three times your age, I'm allowed to see a new planet in my lifetime. Besides, what's left for me here? The whole family's going. There'll be no one to cook for me at Christmas." The group laughed fondly, and that was that. Snow's father carefully added Turner onto the ticket list._

"_We're not going to be adventuring around, now," Maria said sternly, aiming her folded reading glasses in his direction. "We're getting Snow better, then coming home. It's not a vacation." She was tugging at her hair with her other hand, a nervous habit that had been with her ever since Snow was diagnosed._

"_Maria my dear, any trip like this is an adventure, medical motives or not. Snow will get better, I'm not at all worried about that. And she can have a vacation too while she's at it." He leaned back in his chair and gave Snow a little wink that only she saw. She gave a small cough in return, giving him a small thankful smile. _

_When the family meeting had ended and the other adults dispersed, Snow found herself alone with Turner. They had never been extremely close- most of their communication was nonverbal- but he cared a great deal for her and was always by her side, staying the long nights at the hospital when her parents needed a night to themselves. "You don't have to come for me you know," she told him, her voice still hoarse from something or other she was taking. "You have a life here, I know that."_

"_No I don't," he breathed, sinking into the chair next to her._

"_What do you mean? You've got nice work at the office, all those friends you go out with-"_

"_That's not a life, Snow. That's a living. I've lost my wife, my daughter… So it's you. It's the family. They are my life now, and I'm staying with them. And I'll be damned if I don't enjoy myself up there in the stars." He stared at the floor as he spoke, his face not betraying a flicker of pain but his voice saying it all. It was a sad truth; his wife had died in a car crash fifteen years ago, taking her unborn child with her. Snow had been so young when it had happened, but knew that a wound like that never really heals, it stays with the person forever, sometimes dormant, waiting for the right moment to hurt like hell._

_A minute passed as Snow watched his face remain unchanged. "I'm glad you're coming," she finally said, managing a weak but sincere smile. "It'll be dead boring without you, all those serious doctors and nurses telling me things."_

_He laughed softly. "If they don't let you out of the hospital… I'll have to break you out."_

"_Don't worry," she said, "I'll have the floor plan memorized in a day."_

_Another minute of silence passed as the two stared at the same patch of carpet. There was a small wine stain, a memory of some Christmas passed where Turner had gone a bit too enthusiastic with pouring the drinks._

_Turner reached over and took Snow's hand for just a second, before releasing it and standing to leave. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice straining to keep from shaking._

The door was open before Snow could help carry him out, as the Doctor had quickly dragged him outside. They were in the middle of the emergency room which, thankfully, was not as busy as it could have been. Doctors and nurses were running about, trying to do their jobs while staring at the strange blue box. Finally, someone ran up to them, eyes wide.

"I'm not even going to ask," the doctor said as he lifted Turner into the nearest station. "What did he take?" He held a light to Turner's eyes, moving it back and forth, checking pulse, reactions… there was little to no response from him.

"Foreign drug from New Earth called Bliss. It's not really a drug, more of a mood. And it's mutated so it's killing him." The Doctor spoke quickly but calmly, hoping that the man would believe him and try to treat him immediately.

The doctor's eyes lit up. "Luckily for you, I had been in contact with some doctors from there, many years ago. I'll do what I can to stabilize him, but I can't say whether he'll survive. I'm sorry but I need you to leave here, take the box thing with you. I don't care how you got in here but I've got patients to treat here." The man turned away and shouted out a few orders to the people nearby. "Go!" He said, rushing off down the hall. "My name's Ryan May if you need to page me."

Before Snow could say or do anything, the Doctor had pushed her into the TARDIS and landed them quickly in the waiting room.

She turned for the door, about to collapse into a chair and wait, but noticed the Doctor wasn't following. In a small voice, she spoke, for she knew what was going to happen next, what needed to happen. "You're not coming." It wasn't a question, and it didn't need to be.

The Doctor let out a long sigh. "I can't. I'm sorry." He shook his head, his eyes looking everywhere but at Snow. He couldn't do it, not again. He couldn't look into her eyes and tell her it was the end. But he couldn't have another companion; he had sworn to never have any again a long time ago.

"Why?" Snow still had her hand on the door, numbly watching the man to who she owed so much.

He thought about telling her. What he had lost, what had become of those he loved, what he himself had become. But what was the point? Pity, compassion, sympathy… it was all worthless to the Doctor. Being alone was something he had become quite good at these days. "You belong here."

That pushed Snow over the edge, and tears broke through the numb shield. "Here? Doctor, I'm in a hospital waiting for my uncle to _die_. People I love have died, and everyone else that actually _matters _is stuck on freaking New Earth wondering where the hell I am and waiting for you to come free them. _That_ is not belonging. You made this mess, Doctor. You can't just leave me now." She furiously wiped her cheek, her skin warm from it all.

"And that's exactly why I have to leave you, let your life take its course. Your family will join you in a year or so, and you can live."

"It won't be a proper life. You know that."

"I will not do to you what I have done to so many others!" He yelled, finally meeting her stare. Snow shrank into the door, suddenly quite aware of how much pain he was in. "You stupid _humans_ all beg me to take your lives but I won't do it anymore, I just won't!"

She flinched at the inflection. "So that's how you see us. Just inferior life-forms wandering about, so constricted to one time, one life, one mindset. Such short lives that don't even matter in the grand scheme of things. Now I really can see what you see," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as she held back a shout. She shook her head at him. "Nevermind then," she hissed, then promptly stepped out of the TARDIS, clicking the door shut behind her with barely a squeak.

The Doctor stared at the closed doors for a long time before he made and movement. Snow was something different, stranger and simpler than anyone he had ever met. And he let her walk away because he was done being selfish and kind. Sighing, he turned away and began the dematerialization process. He needed to continue his search, couldn't afford to lose his momentum and the few leads he had going.

As important he felt the search was, the adventure with Snow had been refreshing, if anything. He hadn't done anything like it in years, relative time; He had been so busy looking that he hadn't met anyone interesting in a long time. However, it had reminded him just how much devastation he was capable of leaving in his week when he meddled with people's lives.

The list of deaths he was responsible for had grown again…

And it was for this reason, the list of the dead, that the Doctor decided he would not abandon Snow and her family. Turner was going to die, that much he knew. No one survived Bliss, something he had seen firsthand many years ago when he visited New Earth in the same state. So no matter how much he needed to leave her alone and stop interfering, he would stay with her, cure her, bring her family if he could.

Snow would need time, of course. The Doctor knew he had hurt her with his words, as he often did. But she would forgive him because she loved the universe too much. And maybe, when it was all over, she could help him find what he was searching for. So he set the TARDIS coordinates to two days in the future, taking the fast route because he could.

In the cold, white, waiting room, Snow did not agree with that idea. She didn't want the Doctor to go, not really, and she didn't think he could actually leave her at a time like this. So she sat in a plastic chair across from the TARDIS doors and waited for him to come out, a sheepish apologetic look on his ridiculous face.

But he didn't. And Snow closed her eyes as she heard the wheezing begin, not wanting to watch him go.

She didn't cry because he left her. She cried because her friends were dead, and her uncle was dying, and her family was left behind on a dangerous planet all because of the Doctor. Because something good had to happen sometime soon, or she would start screaming.

And two days later she did scream as her uncle's heart failed, holding his hand in a tight grip, and feeling so completely alone.


End file.
